


good men don't become legends

by leov66



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Emotional Repression, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Characters, Sad Backstories, days 2/3: dark/loyalty, mentions of blood and gun violence, mild violence, originally written for jercy week 2018, rated t for the violence and the sexual tension, there are gangs and there's magic, this does not end up in a relationship but it's Heavily implied that there are some Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-06-22 05:38:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15574938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leov66/pseuds/leov66
Summary: “Graecus,” he repeats after Perseus. It tastes ancient on his tongue. “Is that what this is?”“It’s an old word. We weren’t always prosecuted and hunted.” There’s something more in it, but it feels too heavy to press Perseus right now. “You don’t have to run. Join me.”Jason doesn't mean to run into trouble. The thing is, it always seems to find him and this time there's something more than his life at stake. He could finally find his own identity in the harbour city, maybe even someone like him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> alternative title: i read six of crows and all for the game 
> 
> the magic is something between the grisha (from the grisha trillogy and soc), their canonical powers and avatar: the last airbender. i missed jercy week by two days but i'm still posting this!

Perseus Jackson has the smile of a predator and ageless eyes,  like an incoming storm. He looks like he’d fought a typhoon and won. People say he follows no one’s rules but his own and that he’s as ruthless as it gets. His crew - if you could even call them that, they’re all outlaws and criminals, the worst kind the city has to offer - fears him more than the devil. No one betrays him, or at least lives long enough to tell.

 

Every single one of these thoughts and _more_ , there’s thousands of thousands of those _,_ runs through Jason’s head as he slowly looks up to meet the man’s eyes. He’s bound by his wrists and chained, but whoever was handling him - surely it wasn’t Jackson himself - didn’t bother blindfolding or gagging him. Jason doesn’t remember a thing, all he recalls is getting into a fight with someone who wanted to steal the remains of his money. It’d been a long night, but Jason held up to his own well enough until two other men joined in and he barely avoided a knife to his stomach. There was no one around but Jason and the three men, the only semblance of light given by a lamp a few feet from them; it seemed safe enough to assume that no one was watching them.

 

The air was humid as it always was in the harbour corner of the city, it wasn’t even hard for Jason to bend electricity to his own will. The first attacker died before he fell to the ground, struck by ghost-white lightning that sizzled between Jason’s fingertips. The other lunged at him with a knife, but it just served as an excellent conductor, from the left hand right to the heart. Jason’s memories blur somewhere between trying to strike the third opponent down and a sudden loss of consciousness.

 

Jackson’s gloved hand on his chin immediately snaps him back to reality. The leather feels rough to the touch, but Jason doesn’t flinch at it. He blinks once, twice, trying to take in the face that terrifies men so much. He remembers that when he was a little boy, his mother used to play with a caleidoscope. It was a wicked tiny tool, full of shattered colorful glass that gave him a headache from trying to comprehend the depth of its hues. Perseus Jackson’s eyes were even more magical than a caleidoscope, albeit a thousand times more dangerous. Jason has never seen such vibrant shades of green and blue and gray, so captivating that he could feel himself drowning in them all. He forces himself to look away and analyze the rest of his apparent captor’s face. Jackson has a streak of grey hair in otherwise ink-black hair, skin that could once have been a healthy brown, now a faded shade of it, and a dangerously unreadable face.

 

“You’ve been in my city for less than a week and you’re already causing trouble. Disappointing.” Jackson’s voice is a pleasant surprise, a bit husky with just a hint of the slums’ drawl. “What are looking for here, Jason Grace?”

 

“How do you even know my name?”, Jason asks like an absolute idiot. _Jackson could’ve bluffed and he just confirmed his own identity_. He slaps himself mentally and decides to shut up for the rest of the probing.

 

Jackson almost laughs at that. “Believe me, I know more than that. I could tell you precisely how much money you think you have under the matress at the inn you sleep in, but that’s too boring.” There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes now that makes Jackson look even more menacing. “I’d rather talk about secrets. You have enough of those to interest me, don’t you, Jason Grace?”

 

Jason can _feel_ realisation flashing in his eyes before he’s able to control himself. All he can do is scrutinize the fight yet again. There was no one around him _then_ , no one could’ve seen him using his powers. But then again, someone attacked him before he could kill the third man, which means he could’ve lived to tell.

 

“You did a great job with two of them,” Perseus says like he could read Jason’s mind. “The price for working on my territory is death, anyway. In a way I’m glad you took care of them for me. You’re lucky Nico was around to stop the third one from stabbing you. He did have an interesting story about you, though.”

 

The air in the room suddenly turns dense enough to be cut with a knife. Electricity sizzles around them and the fear inside Jason _soars_. Maybe it’s the city, maybe it’s his own emotions, but controlling himself has been harder here for the last few days than it’s been his whole life. It’s like everything here is amplified.

 

Perseus cracks a wicked grin at him, unafraid and almost satisfied with himself. “ _Graecus_ ,” he whispers. “You’re one of us.”

 

The price for _this_ , whatever it was and whatever curse had brought it onto Jason, was death. That was why he ran and kept on running. The only person who ever understood what it felt was Thalia and she was gone; just like everyone else in his life. Jason’s been called many names in many languages, but this one he hears for the first time.

 

“ _Graecus_ ,” he repeats after Perseus. It tastes ancient on his tongue. “Is that what this is?”

 

“It’s an old word. We weren’t always prosecuted and hunted.” There’s something more in it, but it feels too heavy to press Perseus right now. “You don’t have to run. Join me.”

 

It feels tempting to stop escaping. The ache in Jason’s chest urges him to say yes, to stay in the city and finally live instead of just surviving. He’s been running for so long now that he doesn’t remember what it felt like before. Perseus Jackson looks like he can protect himself and his people well enough. What would it be like to finally stop and take a breath?

 

Despite the remains of his self-preservation, Jason nods his head. “ _Ave_ ,” he says, watching Perseus’ breath hitch. He’s not the only one with secrets.

 

“Don’t betray me, Jason Grace, or you’ll learn a fate worse than death.” Jackson’s hand twitches and all the blood inside Jason threatens to halt at his command. They’re a fair match to one another, he notes absentmindedly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason slowly settles into the city while slowly establishing his opinion on Perseus Jackson. The man's just as much of a mystery as he was, but there's more to him than initially meets the eye and Jason's drawn to him. The consequences aren't pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! it's almost september which means i'm gonna be crushed with deadlines and work so here i am with another chapter while i still have time to write! some backstories but no details, some repressed gays, some violence and sacrifice! get ready, buckle up and let me know what your opinion on the plot is!
> 
>  
> 
> also alternative title: fellas is it gay

Jason wakes up in a lice-free bed, more confident about where he’s staying at than he’s been in months. An old man is snoring next door and the water only runs at certain two hours in the night, but it’s enough- more than enough, actually. It’s more than he ever considered having. He’s relatively safe, not starving and at last no longer on the run.

 

The harbour city greeted him like it would an old friend and he feels it tug at him with familiarity whenever he uses his power. He feels lighter and better there than anywhere else he’d ever been, his shoulders finally free of the burden he thought he’d carry forever. Not escaping is something he reminds himself of every morning, but he can live with it as long as he can stay.

 

Perseus actually kept the promise Jason had forced onto him a few days after their first encounter (it wasn’t much of a meeting because Jason had been knocked out before and after it) and found him a better place to live and some work at the harbour. Sometimes either on the street or in the little hotel room he receives an adress where he’s supposed to meet Perseus or someone else from the crew (it’s usually Perseus) for a job, but other than that he’s left alone. The first few weeks presented a challenge, though; despite his opinion on the law being neutral at best, Jason couldn’t help his initial doubts when it came to breaking it so openly.

 

“Are you sure it’s the only way?,” he makes the mistake of asking Perseus one night, right when he’s about to electrocute two guards. It’s a dark night and the city’s barely lit up by a few lamps. Perseus looks at Jason like he’s a toddler and clenches his fist. They’re hiding on a rooftop and the two men are in plain sight; it happens almost too quickly. Jason doesn’t even have the time to react when he watches them choke on seemingly nothing. They aren’t that far from the water and Jason can smell the salt in the wind and in the bodies.

 

Perseus’ eyes are unreadable when he turns to face him. He looks every bit the dangerous creature Jason saw in him the first time they met. “I asked you to kill them, not to question my work ethic. They’d try to kill us if they saw us, if that’s what helps you sleep at night,” he snarls.

 

“And what helps _you_ sleep at night?,” Jason presses on. The violence seems pointless, a blind strike just for the sake of whatever drives Perseus Jackson. He’s been camly obedient the entire time, maybe out of gratitude at some level, but he’s not a mindless machine.

 

“These two killed a boy last night. Smashed his head against the wall for trying to defend himself.” Perseus’ fingers twitch and so does one of the bodies. “This shit happens every night and no one cares, so I do the law’s bidding. An eye for an eye.” Jason’s seen enough violence already. He’s tired of it, but if it keeps him alive, he does what he has to. Revenge, justice; there was no time for those in the life he had to lead, but for Perseus it’s like they’re all there is. Jason has no idea what that’s like.

 

Now that he’s settled down, at least for now, some of his memories begin to come back. It’s a lifetime of promises he never kept and above them all is Thalia’s face. Jason has considered her gone for so long that he almost-

 

 _Forgetting_ Thalia is impossible. Letting her go seems more aproppriate to say. Everything about Jason that doesn’t scream _run_ is Thalia, the urge to see the nightsky, the rush he gets when he slips away from a punch at the last second, the blue in his eyes that turns brighter and brighter with each use of his power. (That’s the interesting part, every time he lets electricity run through his veins and guard his hands towards the target, he breathes easier.)

 

Even in Perseus there’s a little bit of Thalia, maybe in the way he carries himself, unapologetic and always ready to fight. It’s not something Jason likes to reflect on, everything surrounding Perseus is too new and too surprising. One night he got lightly stabbed in the leg; Jason heard him humming some old sailors’ song while limping slightly on the way back and it caught him off-guard for some reason. Analysing people was a skill he picked up along the way and his instinct was usually right, but when it comes to Perseus, Jason’s an absolute mess. He can’t figure him out.

 

With Nico, for example, Perseus is the friendliest. If you could under any circumstances call him friendly. It’s not like he cracks jokes, but at least he smiles. The two of them have a longer story than the others, Jason assumes, but he doesn’t dare ask either of them. All it takes is one look at the olive-skinned boy to know everything he needs to know. Nico di Angelo is terrifying, always loyal to Perseus and could kill anybody in a heartbeat. Something dark always surrounds him, a negative gravity, a sort of shadow. He’s too powerful for his own good. He gets along well enough with Perseus, though. They’re interesting to watch.

 

With Frank, he’s more self-assured than anywhere else. It’s like all it takes is the sharpshooter’s presence for him to cool down. It’s not friendship yet, but they’re close enough. Mutual respect is more correct. Frank’s faith in Perseus is extraordinary; same thing goes for about most of the crew, but somehow he’s the one that makes the biggest impression on Jason.

 

With Jason, Perseus Jackson is lethal. He never hesitates, never backs down from a fight and wins them all. Most of the stories about him are either real or at least partly true; he fights like a hurricane and enjoys every second of it. He once had a gun pressed to his head and he actually laughed at it before killing the guy. Whatever bits of restraints he has left, around Jason he’s got none. Their fighting styles match, as well as their powers. With a snap of his fingers Perseus increases the humidity around them and the lightning Jason summons travels quicker than a shot. Sometimes they’re forced to kill, sometimes they just steal something and sometimes it’s just Perseus threatening someone and Jason having his back in case anything happens.

 

With Jason, Perseus is always on edge, like he’s a string that’s been too tight for too long. When he snaps, he’s dangerous. When he seems to relax, he’s a downright life hazard. When he tips his head back at a joke and laughs like a madman, his eyes glisten with something Jason can’t name. Always dressed in black, quick on his feet and with a tongue sharper than most knives, he makes Jason more reckless than he’s ever been. It’s both a blessing and a curse, because the more freely he breathes, the more he lets his guard fall. In-between the days at the harbour where nothing happens, the evenings that turn into nights with Perseus make him feel thrillingly alive.

 

“You sure you’re alright? You seem all over the place,” Perseus remarks one time when they’re navigating the streets late at night. Jason mentally curses himself for not holding himself together better. He’s been tense all day and it had everything to do with a face he though he saw on his way to work. Dark hair and blue eyes aren’t the most popular colouring in the city and something about the blurred features he hadn’t paid any attention to at first struck him as familiar when he recalled them after a few hours. It was impossible, and yet all he could think of was Thalia. Could he have seen her on the other side of the world? Did fate really bring both of them to the same place?

 

Jason doesn’t say a word and picks up the pace. Perseus shrugs and doesn’t insist.

 

The job goes well enough; they knock the guards out, take the documents and leave with barrely any hassle. Everything goes awry the moment Jason sees a silhouette in the corner of his eye a few seconds to late. A gun glistens in the half-darkness around them and Jason barely has enough time to push Perseus out of the way of the shot that was aimed straight for him. It’s a burning sensation as the bullet pierces his right side. He falls to the ground right on Perseus, but it’s the least of his concerns. The pain suggests the bullet was close enough to come out of his body, so at least Jason doesn’t have to worry about getting it out. The sound of the gun reloading snaps Perseus out of the initial shock and pushes Jason off of him. It’s effective, but also the gentlest Jason has seen him do something. He’s back on his feet and with his hands up before the attacker has time to aim. Jason manages to raise his head up to see the man drop the gun and fall to his knees. Perseus’ move’s like nothing Jason’s seen before; he takes pleasure in every second of it, dangerous like the blue at the center of a flame. The would-be assassin’s head and arms tilt back at an unnatural angle and his body trembles as he chokes on all the water from his own body.

 

Even from behind, Perseus is a terrifying sight, all sharp lines and shadows. Jason can’t help a smile anyway. “Choking is just your personal preference, huh,” he gasps out, and Perseus turns around. He smiles at that, but it’s a dangerous thing.

 

“You saved my life,” Perseus says. He’s suddenly out of breath, like he’s still processing what just happened.

 

It was just an instinct, something Jason did without putting much thought into. His vision blurs as he feels blood pooling at the corners of the bullet holes, but he slowly stands up supporting himself on a wall.“I wouldn’t let you die if I could do something. I could’ve noticed him earlier, anyway.”

 

“Just shut up, let’s go before someone else tries to kill me.” Perseus’ arm around his waist feels comfortable, but more importantly it’s the only thing that prevents him from collapsing on their way back. Jason insists he can get himself patched up the next morning, but he isn’t really able to do anything. His legs are shaking and his breath grows heavier and he’s mostly relying on Perseus to get them both back to safety.

 

If Jason was any more conscious, he’d probably be more excited to see the Camp for the first time, but his main concern is not blacking out at the moment. The building isn’t much of a camp, just another tenement, not at all outstanding from the ones surrounding it. The name supposedly is just a sentiment; before Perseus and his crew stopped being nobodies, they just set up camp by the city grounds. Though the outside isn’t notable, the inside of the Camp shows just how much care and money Perseus put into it. The walls are smooth and clean, there are no broken bottles or dead rats lying around. The layout is simple enough, the ground level is a living area, a makeshift kitchen and two offices, and the two top floors are just bedrooms of different sizes and comfort levels. It’s the middle of the night, but there are some people lounging on the couches or drinking in the kitchen, Jason notes as he’s waiting for the medic. He sits on a chair next to a perplexed Perseus, who still must be going through the night’s events. Jason doesn’t bother trying to talk to him.

 

The medic - Will, if Jason caught his name correctly, looks a little disheveled, but he snaps into cold efficiency as soon as he catches a glimpse of the gunshot wound. “What the hell happened?”, he asks Perseus while carefully examining Jason’s side.

 

“Took a shot meant for me. Is Nico up?” There’s a weird tone in Perseus’ voice as he speaks now, something raw that snaps his cold demeanor open. His hands are fidgeting now, so he hides them in the pockets of his jacket.

 

Will lets out an exasperated sigh. “How would I know?” Perseus glowers at him for a few seconds. “Okay, okay. Try the office, but that’s just a wild guess.” Surely Jason knew better, but he couldn’t help but hear a mumbled ' _wild guess, my ass_ ’, but he must’ve misheard. Perseus doesn’t comment further and leaves Jason with Will.

 

Will helps him get upstairs and leads him to a bedroom. At this point Jason starts slowly blacking out from both the shock and the blood loss. By the time the wound’s cleaned and patched up, he’s already unconscious. The last thing that crosses his mind is the memory of Perseus’ touch. Despite the circumstances, it felt warm. Some part of him wants more.

 

 

 

Nico isn’t exactly sleeping when Perseus walks into his office, but there’s a smudge of ink on his left cheek and his posture isn’t as rigid as always. He’s tired, though, even more so than ever. The hollows of his cheeks and the shadows under his eyes are more pronounced and it fills Perseus with worry. He always feels responsible for everything that’s happened to them.

 

“Someone knew,” he says and sits in a chair he insisted they put up since Nico falls asleep in the office most of the time. He’s thankful for it now, because his legs don’t feel like supporting him anymore. The stench of blood is all around him or at least it feels so. “I was perfectly in line for the shot, Grace took it.”

 

Nico nods. He’s the one who knows how much life debts mean to Perseus. “Is the attacker dead?” It’d be useful to interrogate him, but of course Perseus hadn’t even considered the possibility.

 

“I couldn’t- couldn’t help it. It was an instinct. I saw the blood and just- snapped, you know?” He looks at his hands now, wondering what others see in them. Are those hands of a worker or a killer? The callouses from years of working at the harbour are there, and so are the pale scars from cuts and scratches. There’s still something elegant about them, something he doesn’t want to think of. (They’re the same hands that once kneaded dough and iced cakes, but that was a lifetime ago. Sometimes he forgets and he’s grateful for it.) “This is Luke all over again.”

 

Nico knows better than to try and reason with him. With Perseus, it always boils down to Luke. He doesn’t put his hand on his shoulder, doesn’t move at all. It’s been years, but he’s still hurting. “You can’t go on a manhunt in the middle of the night. We’ll take care of it in the morning.”

 

“I need to _think_ ,” Perseus murmurs more to himself than to Nico. “He just jumped in front of me, didn’t even warn me. I don’t know what to do with this.” He stands up and it’s strained, everything about him says _tired_ but he keeps going because he has to. “Go to Will, maybe ask about Grace and just- rest for a while, okay? I’ll meet you in the morning.”

 

Perseus leaves the office with an uneasy step and Nico knows that it’s going to be a long night for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a wild ride from start to finish.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the night Jason takes a shot for Perseus. The past resurfaces and Jason's world crumbles for the last time. A decision is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an important concept in this work is psychological _catharsis_ ; the purification and purgation of emotions through any extreme change in emotion that results in renewal and restoration. the moment in jason's arc was critical for the shift in his mindset. bear in mind, this story's main plotline is about a certain mentality, repression in every sense, and to an extent, it wouldn't have made sense to have everything explained. due to the limited pov, there are many questions, which i will answer and elaborate on in another work in this universe. percy and nico's backstories remain mysterious for reasons, and those reasons will most likely be explained through the second story.

Jason dreams of the past. As he dazes in and out of consciousness, he relives _everything_. It’s like this simple act of selflessness brought him back to who he was before he started to run. It was easier to live by a half, maybe less; it kept his emotions in check well enough. Belonging was a luxury he couldn’t afford, driven by fear for so long he became used to it. Everything he was he just pushed back and locked carefully, like a treasure too precious to acknowledge.

 

He would’ve kept it all in because he had to, because there was no other way. He would’ve lived this half-life except now he doesn’t want to. The city- no, it was Perseus, it’s been Perseus all along - changed something, snapped him open without warning. Jason’s thoughts come back to Perseus in one way or another, the shock on his face when he realised Jason had saved his life, his smile at Jason’s accidental show of power the night they met. They argue on morality, but ultimately their goals are parallel; survival no matter the cost and justice. Jason has reasons for revenge that could last for lifetimes, but living is more important. Sometimes to keep going is enough of a satisfaction. Not for Perseus, though; he’s driven equally by his need for air and vengeance. He’s an angry thing, but there’s a fatigue to him. No matter how hard he hides it, Perseus Jackson shares his face with all the nobodies of the world, carved by work and sorrow, hollowed by lack of love. They’re all run to the bone and carry the ache of ruins. Perhaps the _graeci_ feel it more than others, or their mourning is amplified.

 

Jason still doesn’t understand what it is that gave him and the rest of their kind the power, but he slowly learns it the more he starts to live. It’s driven by his force of life and controlled by his hands, it doesn’t drain him, only makes him stronger and hungrier for more; it’s life and death at the edge of his fingertips, a dangerous heartbeat within his own and an infinity he’s barely grazed all his life. Jason knows he can summon lightning and change the air pressure, but what else is there inside him that he hasn’t even considered? He almost feels a nudge at that, approval of sorts, a _yes, go on_. An idle thought probes the back of his mind; _there must be more_. What if he can control thunderstorms? It doesn’t seem too far fetched, Thalia could-

 

Whenever Thalia and their mother argued, the weather would turn. Jason didn’t realise it at first, but as the arguments increased, so did the storms. Roaring thunder would wake him up and he’d hear shouting in the living room, his sister’s voice growing louder and more accusing each time. He doesn’t remember what the last string was, maybe their mother seducing the head of the city guard out of boredom. _He’d kill me if he knew, do you really hate me so much?_ , Jason remembers Thalia screaming the morning after the man left. He was too young to understand, but he stood by his sister’s side anyway. She took better care of him than their mother. They left at some point, maybe when Thalia saw him making his toys fly from across the room. Their mother didn’t care or at least didn’t show it, but Jason doesn’t remember much, anyway. It’s been enough time and it only comes back in bits. He’d rather not remember all of it, the nights they spent freezing and starving, the fear that someone would find out and they’d be separated. Someone did at some point, and the night never leaves his nightmares.

 

They really should’ve been safe at the inn, far away from their hometown and unknown to anyone. Jason goes over every minute, has been for years, and he still doesn’t know how it happened. They heard the soldiers by the door and ran through the back, into the woods. In the law’s eyes, they weren’t even human; any guard or soldier could kill them and face no charges. Most people hated their kind and anywhere they went, recognition could mean death. Jason was terrified, but the fear kept him going despite the cold. They didn’t take much, but anything would’ve made the difference. It was dark and dangerous and the woods trailed a path Thalia couldn’t decipher. Moments before the soldiers caught up with them, she begged him to go in the opposite direction for as long as he could. _I’ll find you_ , she promised. With flashing lights and thunder behind him, Jason ran. He’s been running ever since.

 

 

A nudge on his shoulder wakes Jason up. “Are you okay?”, he hears someone say and at first the voice doesn’t sound familiar at all. As a warm hand brushes over his wound, some part of the pain he wasn’t even aware of is alleviated instantly. _Will_ , his mind supplies. “You were saying something in your sleep,” Will says. “Who’s Thalia?”

 

Jason’s head is throbbing and his mouth feels dry, but he breathes in and out. He’s been holding everything in for so long now that he doesn’t remember how to talk normally. “My sister,” he manages to say despite his throat tightening. Even admitting that, talking out loud about her feels like too much of a compromise.

 

“Leave him alone, Will,” another voice joins in. Jason props himself up on the bed and watches Nico enter the room. “He’s been through enough.” The words are matter-of-fact but Nico’s tone isn’t as biting as someone would expect it to be, and Jason’s grateful for that.

 

Will looks up at Nico and everything about his form relaxes. Even in this half-consciousness, Jason can see the ease at which they’re with each other. It might not be something they’re fully aware of yet, but it’s undeniable in the way Will instinctively leans towards Nico. “You were supposed to be resting, too.” Nico looks like he’s barely standing, pale, dull and tired. He looks the kind of tired that sleep doesn’t alleviate. Jason hasn’t seen him like that on the nights they spent on various jobs throughout the last few months; Nico isn’t even hiding how jaded he is. Part of it must be Will’s presence, he might just not want to hide anything.

 

The blond sighs, it’s a short, pained thing but Nico must’ve heard it, too. “A few days and the wound will have healed enough to walk,” he says to Jason. “You’ll be good to go, but take it easy, okay?” Jason manages a weak smile and a nod in return.

 

On his way out, Will’s hand brushes against Nico’s shoulder and he says something in a low tone. Jason looks away just to give them the impression of privacy. Nico doesn’t turn and watch Will leave, but he doesn’t get any closer to Jason than the dooframe, either.

 

“You don’t know us,” Nico says before Jason gets the chance to ask about Perseus. “Down here, life debts are powerful. A life is all most have to offer, and when someone else saves it, it’s- a lot to take in. He’s a mess right now.”

 

Jason nods, maybe because there’s nothing he can say. He didn’t think twice before jumping in front of Perseus that night, and it turns out they’re not just going to forget that it happened and move on, which would be his preferred outcome.

 

“Will said that when he was patching you up, there were some other scars. Stab wounds, bullet holes. Who were you before you came into the city, Jason Grace?”

 

Jason isn’t ready for the full answer yet. He isn’t ready for a short one, either, and he hopes that what he says is enough for now. “Easy. Anyone I needed to be to survive.”

 

Nico’s mouth twitches in a scowl for a moment that Jason almost misses, though familiarity glints in his eyes. “That won’t do here. We don’t live by halves.”

 

“Already seen that much,” Jason manages to smile, and his mind jumps back to last night and to every one before it that he’s spent with Perseus. Those were so full of life and energy he didn’t know where to put it all, they made him reckless and restless; those were some of the best moments of his life. He’s been on his own ever since Thalia and Perseus is the company he forgot he needed. Even now, still healing from the gunshot (that he took for Perseus and doesn’t want to think about more than he needs to), he feels alive. Like he really can stay and make himself _someone_.

 

Once again, he’s scared. This time it’s the more tangible kind of fear, one he can define precisely by the dull pulse in his right side. He doesn’t want to die, obviously; he’s fought too long to go down by any hands but his own, and that thought is enough to push him to really stay. If Jason left, he’d be nothing again, another point on a map of nobodies that no one will ever make. Here he won’t be a nameless body in a street corner. Here he can make himself true for the first time. Here he can die, but at least it’ll be on his own terms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for sticking along with me on this journey and stay tuned for part two! if you have any specific questions to a certain line or plothole, comment!! i'll be more than happy to include it in the next story or just straight-up answer in the comment.

**Author's Note:**

> **comments and kudos keep authors motivated**


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